Shards a Companion to Like Shattered Glass
by Eroket
Summary: What drove you, Taggerung, in your fanatical quest? On the other side, two enemies; The taggerung and Red Warrior share a final moment: A look into the mind of Hardin Zann Taggerung himself


They had been enemies once, but the great warrior now only felt an odd sense of respect to his likewise dead foe.

Their world was darkness; this void between planes, that separated Hellgates and Dark Forest was an infinite blackness that stretched in all spaces, a place that few could ever bear to tread. Certainly no ordinary beast would remain there for even a moment. But these two beasts could never be called ordinary.

The squirrel's eyes, surrounded by soft black patches, narrowed upon his enemy, his foe, his…alter-ego? The time for such words was at an end. They were bodiless souls now, brought…here, but for what purpose?

The stoat's smirk brought about the hot rage that the squirrel had once felt, but paws, calloused from so many seasons gripping a blade raised in a defensive gesture. "Calm down. We can't fight here…Before we get sent to Dark Forest or Hellgates, I wanted to speak to you just once. 'They' granted me that…Being digested by spiders really hurts, so I think you owe me that."

"I think that poison made us even." The squirrel retorted.

"One warrior to another then," The stoat replied, tone hardening. "We fought for causes we both believed in and warriors are beasts to be respected."  
"You're a killer, a murderer and by no way were we ever alike, Taggerung," The squirrel replied calmly, "I defended what you sought to destroy. I saved who you sought to murder. Your admission that you wanted others to be looked upon favorably is no excuse. I don't want to speak to you…all I want now is to go to Dark Forest…she's been waiting for me for so long now."

The stoat's smirk was chilling, even in death. "Then she can wait a few minutes longer. I was those things and more, but my reasons were my own, and no justification have I ever given, nor do I owe! I was the Taggerung, the destined warrior and I lived that! But I was not always this way, Red Warrior! I lived as a normal beast once, a young beast in a village with other children. I saw my family, my friends, beasts orphaned by the Juska…I watched them burned alive in their homes…" His eyes took upon a haunting look, "Hated? Murderer? Monster? I bear those titles and I'll bear them always if it meant the end of Deltrada, to even a chance of equality…I have become Evil Itself to make certain of that!"

The Red warrior shook his head, sadness appearing in his eyes, "Don't you think there was another way?"

"No. Peace is an illusion, a faraway dream that is told to calm children. How many have you slain, Red Warrior! Sheegoth, yes! And Fenris, they fell to achieve your peace. Wars are written by the victors, that is the only difference…that I am the loser….but if you must know more…then let me tell you!"

Drip, drip, drip.

The fox could not speak. His tongue had been cut long ago; he would not have made any sense even if he was capable of speech.

The stoat was smiling, his tone friendly and voice calm as he sat cross legged on the floor, dagger in one paw.

"I don't really know why you had to oppose the Juskadin, my friend," The stoat replied, smile never wavering an inch as he moved the knife slowly and expertly, running it over sensitive places, over veins, ever so tenderly. Blood was already pooled around the fox and his body was cold. Soon the sport would be over; this saddened the stoat.

"My father disapproves of this, you know that? He doesn't feel I should be doing it…and not just practicing my art on you, the whole unification. The righteous war with those bastards who burned my village, who slaughtered children just for their species. He is weak!" The stoat suddenly roared, slamming the knife up to the hilt in the fox's chest, eyes narrowing harshly as the former chieftain's breath escaped him in a dying rattle.

The stoat frowned. Once more he'd let his anger get the better of him as it often did whenever he thought of those badgers and the sneering, swaggering, evil otter known as Wade Stormsail. It made him sicker than any plague, any disease…and it angered him further that his OWN FATHER had not the backbone to do what needed to be done.

Damn them, damn them all…

Evil, was it? He had killed many thus far. He was the Taggerung and life was HIS to judge, HIS to give and his to take. It was his will that war be had, that all of the so-called 'goodbeasts' recognize the 'vermin' races that they had so long hated. That proud, puissant Redwall stop its slanderous propaganda against the 'vermin' so that they may take their rightful place in the world.

The stoat stood and calmly exited the tent, the turbulence raging inside him was not reflected upon the placid, neutral features, upon the calm, steady breath.

They were waiting for him outside, his two loyal and capable lieutenants. Each was half of him. The nervous, excitable and mad Rathik had his fighting body-but a little less. The calm, calculating Ashtor had his brilliant, nimble mind-but a little less. Nevertheless, they were two of the only beasts he confided it and had earned their way into his trust.

Ashtor smiled and performed a small bow, new spectacles slipping forward on his nose a bit, prompting him to push them up slightly.

Rathik flashed his lord and master a grin, showing yellowed fangs before a paw covered them to wipe away the foam upon his muzzle. "It done, lord?"

The stoat smiled and nodded. "Yes. Ashtor, have you done your part?"

The immaculately dressed weasel smiled brilliantly and replied in a tone more suited to a scholar than a Juskadin: "Most assuredly, my Taggerung. The…more loyal of the late chieftain's inner circle were dealt with summarily by The Lunegast and I myself have roused the entire clan…they await your direction, Great One."

"Excellent, Ashtor." The stoat smirked, "And my father?"

"Skulking in his tent."

"Coward," was Rathik's laughing reply, taken from him by a swift backhand from Hardin. Rathik whimpered and clutched a paw to his cheek, cowed instantly.

"You will not insult my father in front of me, Rathik," Was the stoat's calm response. "You are fortunate to escape with only that."

Rathik nodded frantically in apology that even his unstable mind knew he had to provide. Ashtor's smirk and stifled mutter of 'clod' were well hidden as he nodded, "They await you, sire."

The stoat strode out to the camp, noting the fierce, tattooed faces of his warriors, his righteous army, ready to fight and die for him.

"Warriors, hear me! The time to bring about our place in history has come!" He roared, voice magnified by the flame that burned within him, "It is we who shall make our races known and respected, we who shall cut down the propaganda that has crippled us through years! It is my joy to inform you that recently, the paw of your Taggerung slew the lord of the detestable Nameless Clan who tried to stand in the way of our holy crusade! And soon, soon…GENERAL WADE himself shall fall to our righteousness!"

There was a roar of approval and Ashtor seized the moment, "Comrades, the time of this revolution is upon us! We shall eliminate the Deltrada who have slain so many and free the innocents they have long oppressed!"

When the stoat left, they were still cheering. "Wasn't that a bit dramatic, Ashtor?"

"Seemed appropriate for the time," Ashtor replied without missing a beat.

The stoat nodded. "Great job…I'm off to see Father then."

"The preparations…have been made, sire."

"Excellent." The stoat smirked darkly. "The head of Quinlan the Red Warrior and General Wade in one way…wonderful."

The old chieftain sat in the corner of his test, face grim and eyes sad. He didn't even look up as the tent flap opened and the footsteps announced the beast he regretted so much saving all those seasons back. "Lynta cast the stones again…she saw your death. She saw the spiders there."

"Fate's what you make of it, old one," Was the mocking retort the stoat offered. "Death troubles me not…only our people concern me."

"You march for your glory…I've heard rumors…I've heard rumors you mean to end the lives of General Wade and Quinlan the Warrior on the morrow."

"Are you so old you don't even know how to take an opportunity, Sratha?"

Sratha's eyes were pleading, "You cannot do this, Hardin…"

"Oh, it's done. Or it may as well be. I will lead them into the light, into the place they deserve. You are a relic, a ghost of a past age. Vanish and trouble me no more."

"Hardin, please…"

"Do not beg me for anything! I watched beasts I befriended, beasts I grew up with…babies, the old…I saw them burned alive in their homes. You saw me punch that carving of Vulpuz when I awoke and struggled out of that ring of flames. I will not honor Vulpuz, I march for Hardin! If only evil can bring about an age…for our people I will become evil itself to give them a better chance! You…Sratha Din…die as old beasts do and trouble me no more!"

The old stoat looked down, barely noticing the receding footsteps. He placed his head into his wrinkled paws-he had never before noticed the wrinkles…never before had he felt so…old- and he wept.

"And…you know the rest."

"Were you hoping for pity?"  
"No…I don't know what I was hoping for, really, Red Warrior…all I know is you will go on to your beloved and I will burn in the hell I richly deserve. I will live among the evils and be honored by them. But, I discovered something a while back. I do not hate you."

"Well, I do hate you. I hate everything you've done. I may've pitied you once, I really would have…you were an innocent, a casualty…but you destroyed that when your ideals destroyed you. You perverted your dream and I would die again a million times if it meant saving even once life from your blood drenched nightmare."

The Stoat's smile was almost melancholy. "I understand…you can turn and walk away now."

"I don't trust you."

"Nor I you."

"I have a reason."

"As do I…let us watch, as Martin does, Quinlan…from our respective afterlives. Let us watch fate decide who lives and who dies. When I viewed you, I viewed a reflection…but one that was in a shattered mirror. In the end, there was no joy…I ended your life because we had to exist together, Quinlan…or die together. I thought to shatter the mirror that stood in my path…but what I truly shattered was myself."

The squirrel nodded, already he could feel the pull to another place, to a pair of arms that longed to embrace him. Deirdre…his mind whispered. "For what it's worth…you were a good enemy."

"Goodbye, Quinlan the Warrior."

"Farewell, Hardin Zann Taggerung."

And once more, the void, the black abyss was empty.


End file.
